


No one

by obviouslyelementary



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obviouslyelementary/pseuds/obviouslyelementary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That wasn’t the first time it happened.<br/>That wasn’t the first time he had to repeat those words over and over again.<br/>He knew he would have to do it again and again and again.<br/>He was programed to.<br/>And he was starting to get sick of it.</p>
<p>“On days like this, kids like you...”<br/>“Should be burning in hell”"</p>
            </blockquote>





	No one

That wasn’t the first time it happened.  
That wasn’t the first time he had to repeat those words over and over again.  
He knew he would have to do it again and again and again.  
He was programed to.  
And he was starting to get sick of it.

“On days like this, kids like you...”  
“Should be burning in hell”

Should they? He was starting to doubt it. If they truly should be burning in hell, they would be. They wouldn’t have the power to come back until they could defeat him. They wouldn’t have the power to relive it all again and change whatever they pleased. They wouldn’t have the power to kill Papyrus over  
And over  
And over  
And over again.  
Like it was something normal.  
Like it was something fun.  
Because he saw in their eyes, every single time, how much fun they were having. It didn’t matter, if it was Frisk, or Chara, or anyone else. They were having fun. They were pleased. Because it was all a game. A game. Where they could save and continue later, or reset and do it all over again. For them, there would be no consequences. All of them would forget and deal with it like it was no one’s business. But in reality, it was. It was his business. His burden to carry.  
It was so heavy, that sometimes he wished he didn’t know. That he didn’t remember. Because at least it would be easier to let that sometimes demon sometimes angel creature walk besides him.  
It would be easier to just let them live instead of passing a bone through their skull.  
But in a sense, everything seemed fine because well... They would always reset. And the ones that didn’t, usually let his brother live. Mostly all of them live. And have a happy life. That was his only dream. To be able to leave that vicious cycle and not have to reset ever again.

Suddenly, he regretted ever asking that.

It had been two weeks since Chara (or Frisk possessed by Chara) was gone. The last thing they had done was kill Undyne, and now Sans was waiting for his turn. For two entire weeks.  
Every day he went to the king’s castle, waiting by the hall, looking around, playing with his attacks, and training his hardest. After a week or so, he walked to the king’s room, thinking the kid had gone pass him without his noticing. He was greeted with a warm smile and a cup of tea.  
He warned the king, but Asgore didn’t seem too worried. After all, he had last heard of the kid in a week. They would be back, sure, but maybe not as soon as they expected. Sans only nodded, quietly returning to his home since, well, the kid wouldn’t be around in such late hours.  
He wondered where they went when they weren’t on the underground. That always made him fear, but he wasn’t exactly sure why.  
The second week went slowly by. It was weird because all the people from Snowdin acted the same. They said the same things, but never exactly the same. They hadn’t forgotten. They just didn’t know what had happened. They had no clue. And if it wasn’t for the complete silence of their home or the absence of the spaghetti smell in the air, Sans wouldn’t have noticed a thing as well.  
Or he would. But it would be really less painful.  
He walked inside once more, looking around and trying to pretend for the tenth time that day that Papyrus was just hanging out with Undyne for a huge vacation like he always said he would. He was just training to become a royal guard like he always wanted. He surely was not dead. That was what Sans liked to think. And for that entire week, he went to the hall in the castle and waited before returning to his dead cold house.

After a month, he couldn’t bare it anymore.  
He was always angry. The people of Snowdin started to get scared of him. They usually didn’t say anything when he was around, and seemed to stay indoors for a longer time of the day. Which also meant, unfortunately, less money for Sans because he did work (sometimes) and that was pretty much how Papyrus and he surviv-  
But there was no Papyrus anymore.

Two months through that painful waiting, he decided to visit the king again. The man was busy, treating all the monsters and their problems. He didn’t even seem to remember that two months ago he was waiting apprehensively for a kid to show up and kill him.  
Sans decided then to try to talk to the woman inside that weird door. He sat next to it, like he always would. Since that little devil had killed his brother, he had never returned to talk to that lady again.  
He waited there for hours and hours long. Nothing. She didn’t answer when he knocked. Didn’t laugh of his jokes. It took him a while to find out that she wasn’t only upset about the kid.  
She was where Papyrus was.  
Where Undyne was.  
Where all the monsters that had come face to face with that fucked up version of Frisk were.

He saw himself alone.

Three months after all that mess had started, he was now a mess.   
He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t go out. Every hour of the day that he was awake seemed like ten years of burning fire on his soul. Until that moment of his entire existence, he never knew his powers could form such convincing tears. He surely felt like he had the capacity to form real ones when he cried into his pillow, sobbing and trying to put himself together. And for weeks he wasn’t able even o stand up. He laid on Papyrus’ bed, on a cycle of sleeping and crying, always hugging the pillow and pretending to be even smaller than he already was.  
And for once in his entire life he felt weak.  
And he called out for help.  
“PAPYRUS”  
“PAPYRUS”  
“P-PAP”  
“I-I NEE-ED YOU!”  
“P-PL-PLEASE C-CO-CO-ME B-BAC-CK!”  
And for the first time in his life...  
There was no one to listen.


End file.
